


High and Low

by Winkstine5



Category: L.A. Noire
Genre: Ad-Vice bitchsquad on the hunt, Drabble, Drugs, Gen, Sort of a character study
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-16
Updated: 2015-05-16
Packaged: 2018-03-30 19:19:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3948565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winkstine5/pseuds/Winkstine5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two best friends go on a search.</p>
            </blockquote>





	High and Low

**Author's Note:**

> i found this old drabble from like 2 years ago and why let it go to waste

Cole grunted in irritation as he got up from where he had been crouched on the ground, having been searching along the bottom shelves of a storage shelf inside a dull storage room of a small bar he and his partner were called in to investigate an anonymous tip. Aforementioned partner was doing the exact opposite of what he was doing, which was actually _doing his job_.

Roy busied himself with inspecting the liquor collection they’d discovered within the storage room. That wasn’t what they had come for, of course, as they were searching for reported narcotics the anonymous tip left for Ad Vice. The duo had been in there for maybe five minutes at the very least and Roy’s lack of interest with what rightfully should be an easy case was beginning to grate of Cole’s nerves.

“At the very least you could _pretend_ to be doing your job, Roy.” The detective spoke up, not bothering to grace Roy with so much as a glance as he searched for those supposed narcotics in a sparsely-stocked cabinet. He heard a breathy chuckle followed by the faint sound of glass bottles clinking together briefly.

“I am, Cole. I’m wasting my time for the allotted hour search before calling the tip in as a fake and going on with my day.” Earle responded coolly, inspecting the labels of the liquor bottles.

“ _Or_ you could spend the allotted search hour _searching_.” Cole retorted dryly, closing a wooden cabinet door all too harshly.

“Wow, what a concept. I would help but it looks like you’ve got this all under control there, Cole.” The smirk could be heard just by the tone of Roy’s voice. Cole grit his teeth and stood up straight.

“Besides, it’s a false tip. We get these all the time in Ad Vice, Cole. It’s almost always somebody wants somebody else put out of business so they pin the dope charge anonymously on their competitor.” Roy continued with a much less smug tone of voice, now sounding patronizing in Cole’s opinion.

“How do you know that for sure?” Phelps questioned, turning to face his partner finally. Roy raised a brow and set down a unique looking bottle full of amber coloured liquid back into its spot amoungst the other liquor bottles.

“Call it my intuition. I’ve been a Vice cop a long time, Cole, longer than you’ve even been a detective. I know the dope scene inside and out. And this? This is small fry. It’s a waste of time.” Earle mused, folding his arms across his chest as he leaned against the table holding the mass amount of liquor.

Cole narrowed his eyes, shaking his head while he looked away from his partner, instead looking around the spacey storage room for something not already inspected by him.

“So, with that on the table, I am going to go back to searching for something decent to drink in this hole while you continue to scuttle around searching for dope that _isn’t going to be there._ ” Roy drawled, turning his attentions back to the drink selection. He picked a bottle up and pulled off the cap, taking a whiff of the contents. He made a face of pure disgust, recapping the bottle and setting it back down with a slight shake of the head.

“Unless you want to join me, of course, though I feel you’re far more eager to search around a shoddy storage room for elusive drugs, what with that stick jammed so far up your ass.” He continued with a slight smirk to himself, inspecting another bottle. Cole inhaled sharply, lax hands slowly balling up into fists out of agitation.

Cole liked to consider himself a fairly patient man. He knew when the time was appropriate for patience and impatience, a trait that reigned supreme as one of the contributing factors to his success as a detective. He rarely lost his cool in situations that put him to the test. However, he constantly seemed to find himself on the brink of snapping when it came to his partner. There was something about Roy Earle—something about the way he held himself, spoke and reacted to situations—that made Cole’s patience wear quite thin. A single snappy retort was nearly enough to send the young detective flying off the handle. He couldn’t quite understand why only Roy had that effect on him. Plenty of people remarked about the ludicrous way he sought out justice and abided by rules but only Roy made him tremble with fury over a simple, snide comment on his dedication to the job.

“I’ll pass, thank you.” Cole replied in a clipped tone of voice before beginning to search in more complex hiding spots.

“Good choice. The collection is shitty anyway.” Roy sounded almost disappointed, abandoning his station at the liquor table for a seat on a nearby chair. Cole gave a noncommittal hum in response, sifting through the contents of a box on one of the shelves. The squeak of the chair protesting under Roy's weight as he sat made Cole twitch.

“You’d think a bar would have a decent selection of booze.” He continued with a drawl, watching Cole ‘work’ in moderate amusement. Cole didn’t grace him with any sign that he’d been listening, taking a few things from off of the only crowded shelf in the storage room to get a better look. Silence drifted over the pair, one diligently searching while the other lounged about.

“Let me know if you find anything that isn’t piss in a bottle.” Roy broke the silence, that uncaring drawl breaking Cole’s concentration.

“You don’t have to stay in here, Roy.”

“No. I don’t. But why leave when I can watch the Great Detective Cole Phelps dutifully inspect a box of junk in the name of justice?”

Cole cast a look of annoyance to Roy that made the smug detective chuckle in delight. With a sigh, Phelps pushed the boxes back into place and took a step back from the shelf.

“Give it a rest, Phelps. There’s no dope here.” Earle added, Cole looking over his shoulder at his partner.

“I’m sure you’ve been on plenty of drug busts to know that there is always more to the scene than what meets the eye.” The young detective spoke smoothly, folding his arms across his chest. Roy raised a brow, smirking slightly.

“Enough to tell you that this is _entirely simple as it seems_.” He replied just as smoothly, that smirk never leaving his lips. Cole didn't look convinced, face staying in the same serious expression.

"Sure." He responded, moving passed Roy to inspect the counter of bottles that his partner had previously been browsing through. Unlike Roy, he took his time and looked for anything out of ordinary and anything in plain sight.

"Jesus, Phelps, don't tell me you're really going to spend the  _entire_ hour searching?" Roy spoke up again, Cole knowing very well he was being teased despite the pseudo-anguish tone Roy had taken up.

"That's exactly what I'm doing, Roy." 

Cole's lips twitched in satisfaction at hearing his partner give a heavy sigh of annoyance. It was refreshing knowing that he bothered Roy as much as the man bothered him. They were equally talented at making each other cross, just in different ways.

"If you want to play a role in ending the business at this quaint little bar by searching for rumoured drugs  that, in the event that they _even_ exist, were likely planted by a rival business then _by all means_ , Phelps. Be my guest." Roy snapped in a dry tone of voice, Cole closing his eyes for a moment to find his center before ducking to check around the counter. 

He was pretty determined to find those drugs and be proven right just to spite Roy. God knows Earle did it to him often enough. He deserved a little revenge.

"You can always go wait in the car, Roy. You'll just get in my way." Cole said in a dry, sarcastic tone of voice, carefully pulling a cabinet forward to peak behind it.

"You're talkin' out your ass, Phelps. You know as well as I do there's nothing here." Roy quipped back in a similar tone of voice. Cole felt his jaw tighten in irritation, as it was wont to do around Roy Earle.

"This is a waste of time. We have so many important things we should be doing that aren't searchin' a filthy fuckin' storage room to some washed up bar on an dusty street." Earle continued, the chair he was occupying squeaking loudly as he sat up. Cole ignored him, moving to kneel down on the floor and look for something out of the ordinary behind the cabinet.

"I don't know what you're trying to prove, Phelps, but it's not gonna work. I know Vice better than you do and this is--"

"Found it." Cole interrupted him, gently setting a chartreuse coloured tile on the counter supporting the bottles of cheap liquor. Roy's mouth snapped shut, the chair giving a thunderous squeak as he got up from it and onto his feet.

"You've got to be shitting me." Roy murmured. 

Cole only looked at his partner from over his shoulder and held up the small, cardboard box that housed a morphine syrette, mirroring Roy Earle's smug smile.


End file.
